


stay there a little longer

by torasame



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Somewhat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torasame/pseuds/torasame
Summary: They've calculated the risk, and to his relief, he and Kuroo have always been with numbers.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	stay there a little longer

**Author's Note:**

> HQ Angst week has begun.  
> This isn't as angsty as I'd like but I've been swamped with work so my next entries will definitely be shorter. This was supposed to be a short fic but this ended up taking the life out of me. I'll need to cram something for tomorrow (November second) since surprise, I was birthed. I've been in a more hopeful mood which is probably why my works aren't as edgy haha. But anyways, have a good one and happy belated halloween.
> 
> edit: hah, day 1 tier 1 posted on 11/1 on 1:11pm yes happy krtsk day everyone.
> 
> Prompt: Longing
> 
> (the title is a lyric from Spring Day by BTS)

It’s half past seven in the evening on October thirty-first. That’s what he sees when he opens his phone. He moves to turn it off, returning to folding his soiled clothes into his gym bag. The sounds of water running act as white noise while he collects his things, he dries his hair once more before folding the towel up as well. It’s two past seven, Tsukishima moves to turn his phone again. He looks up at the sound of his name being called.

“Your blocks are still as nasty as ever! I don’t know how you do it!” Tsukishima half-heartedly scoffs, and leans his weight onto his hands, allowing Koganegawa to continue his usual after-practice-tyrade.

“Is volleyball all you ever think about?” he replies in turn, fingers unconsciously drumming against the surface of his screen. To his own credit, he doesn’t look down when the screen is accidentally activated, and moves for the power button instead. “Was spending the entire afternoon not enough for you? But then again, that’s assuming you have a life outside of the court.”

He expertly dodges the towel that flings his way. “Would it pay for you to be nice?” Koganegawa’s pout remarkably resembles a kicked puppy.

“It’s an hourly rate, I’m afraid.” He has to use his bag to block the next hit.

“Well consider it paid over dinner! Kyoutani said he was free and we haven’t hung out in a while.”

Kyoutani appears from behind a row of lockers, his gaze shifts from his phone to Koganegawa. “Thank you for the free food.”

“How about it, Tsukishima?”

His own phone remains silent, and somehow, he can hear every punctuated thought in his ears. Some part of him considers it, but the words sink as though they were swallowed in quicksand, the fall into the gaping hollowness he has not managed to overlook. His taped finger comes to press the power button. It’s still the thirty-first of October, two minutes to forty. Kyoutani clears his throat, he briefly registers the time he spent staring at the numbers before the screen goes dark.

“Have you got plans?” Kyoutani asks, he remembers he’s probably the more observant one of the two (though there isn’t much to compete with), still, he can’t help but accept the concern. Koganegawa takes a little while to catch on, but once he does, he stares up at expressions on a scale tipping dangerously close to sympathy. The words he lets out next will decide the unit. Nothing breaks the silence when it falls over them briefly, the scales tip unconsciously, but Tsukishima can’t help but stick to his templated words.

“I do, so you both can head off without me,” an autopilot smile spreads on his lips, “sadly, the nicicity services are rendered suspended, better luck next time.”

Koganegawa should’ve reverted into childish resignation, but he doesn’t. Kyoutani should’ve given him a knowing smile, but he doesn’t. The scales fall, the unit is weighed. The numbers laugh at him, they laugh at their own cruel joke. Tsukishima tries to wade past the heavy atmosphere, he grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He announces his leave and the rest of the team choruses back to him.

“Tsukishima,” he isn’t sure why he’s surprised when Koganegawa speaks first, maybe it’s the almost condoning expression painted on his face. But he’s seen it so many times before. It does not pull at the strings in his chest, but it pounds away at the iron wall lining it. Tsukishima can almost count the dull thuds.

“Did you and Kuroo fight?” Kyoutani shoots Koganegawa a look, apprehensive of his directness, but it does not seem to condone his words. Tsukishima takes a moment to process it, unsure if he should laugh. The short one that escapes him is breathless.

“No, no it’s nothing like that,” he imagines them internally sagging in relief, it shows in their eyes. Tsukishima thumbs his palm, running routine-like circles into it. “He’s just been quite busy lately.”

The numbers decrease, reminiscent of shifting one’s weight from foot to foot. They still mock him, but the weight in the atmosphere lifts ever so slightly. He doesn’t give the pair the opportunity to scramble for words to say, he bows to them and takes his leave.

Cold wind hits him once he manages to pull his outdoor trainers on. He pulls his coat closer, taking his first fog punctuated breath before stepping onto his bike and riding towards the dorm building. He reaches the entrance in about five minutes, locking his bike on the designated rails and hurrying inside. He’s alone on the elevator ride up to his floor, leaving a quieter monotonous repeat of mundane actions. He keys into his room, slips out of his shoes and goes to segregate his clothes into the laundry room. It’s about a quarter past eight when he makes himself dinner before firing up his laptop and going over recent lectures.

He leaves a tab open for messages, but nothing chimes in over the music streaming in his headphones, no notification appears among the archeological text that spreads over his screen. The hours pass over article reading and a report he manages to finish. His fingers move over the keys lethargically, eyes scanning over the words, partially sinking in before he catches himself drifting. It’s as though his soul has left the empty shell of his body, life moves but time stops in his mind.

He thinks back to the scene how many hours ago, he feels the residual echoes of the words against his chest. Tsukishima is well aware that their relationship falls beyond the realms of conventionalism. They're both well versed in the many complications that come with it. They've been moving in tandem with one another for almost five years, Tsukishima guesses they've managed to sit through every sentiment pertaining to their arrangement. There’s a simple common denominator among them.

Though disconnected, his body manages to link his fingers above his head and stretch, turning to the wall clock that reads somewhere past eleven. He heaves a sigh once the tension releases, his consciousness almost dropping back into his vessel.

No one expected their relationship to last, a predicament like theirs isn’t meant to. But Tsukishima doesn’t succumb to that line of neuroticism, partially because he isn’t the rationality hardened fifteen year old he used to be, and because of his newfound certainty he has. Both in himself and in Kuroo. He doesn’t see this as a losing game, as two people betting their hands so recklessly.

He knows a bit better now, which is why he remains certain. He knows no one can control the cards they are dealt, he knows he can’t do much with the ones laid right in front of him. He can’t bridge the four hundred and sixty nine kilometre gap between them, he can’t shorten the four hour train ride between them, and he certainly can’t bring himself to house the ambition running under the mess of unruly bed hair. But despite it all, they make the cards work, they weigh the odds and calculate the risks, they give meaning to the game. Their relationship isn’t built on fleeting emotions and rose coloured sparks, they’re far too rational for that. It’s symbiotic, it’s using student coupons to travel to Tokyo, it’s letters and packages, skype calls and daily texts. It’s unconventional. It’s unconventional but they make it work.

His phone continues to hold its peace. Tsukishima closes up for the night, stretches when he stands and makes his way to the bathroom. He’s still human, after all, as brave as it all seems, he can’t think away the inklings of ache that have taken root in the grounds of his mind, sinking into the corners of his chest. He thinks it's been there for quite some time, a risk they had anticipated. He brushes his teeth in the unsettling silence, washes up before deciding to call it a night. 

_ He’s just been busy lately,  _ he repeats to himself. To be fair, this month’s been a packed one for them both. They managed to fit a few calls in, they texted whenever they could. He finds that further reflection makes the ache sink in deeper than it should, that further evaluation of the time passed makes the number feel a lot larger than it should. He can’t stop the thought once it settles in his mind.

Tsukishima takes a round around the room, cutting the lights before he retires to his room. There’s one last glance down the small hallway leading to the door, some part of him imagines the knocks. But he concludes they are merely the echo of the words against his chest, or realistically, just someone down the corridor. It takes him a second to realize how long he’s been staring at the empty space and to register the clear knocks against his door. He hears a click, and he thinks he must be hallucinating.

Without mistake, Kuroo steps through the door, clad in his suit and tie with a purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He can make out the cold flushed cheeks from where he stands. In the interval before their gazes intersect, Tsukishima is making his way across the room in quick stride and pulling Kuroo into his arms. The door shuts behind them, Kuroo’s arms move around his waist, his face burrows into Tsukishima’s jumper. They say nothing while they hold each other, but Tsukishima hears the words unspoken.

_ Two months,  _ the words linger in imaginary breath. Tsukishima burrows closer to Kuroo’s slightly chilled frame, but he feels the cold begin to fade. He barely manages to pull away, still encased in Kuroo’s arms. He cups Kuroo’s face in his hands, a laugh gets the better of him when Kuroo exhales at the warmth. Even the tips of his ears are brushed with light pink.

“What on earth are you doing here at this hour?” He reaches into his pocket for his phone, it’s barely past midnight on November first. Kuroo leans forward and catches his lips when he turns to face him. It’s chaste, gentle, and enough to unwind the knots that had built up over the month. When they pull apart, Tsukishima is caught in sparkling gold eyes.

“I would’ve come a bit earlier but I had to pick some stuff up since I know you aren’t really one for flowers,” Kuroo gestures to the bag he set on the floor. He recognizes the bakery immediately. Kuroo leaves a quick peck on his lips. “Happy Anniversary.”

He feels his heart rate speed up, his mouth grows dry and his cheeks grow warm. Tsukishima buries his face into the fabric of Kuroo’s scarf (well  _ his  _ scarf), he feels a kiss on the side of his head. “You’re,”  _ a sap, so cliche, insane,  _ “you’re freezing.”

Kuroo blinks before erupting in laughter, Tsukishima shushes him, knowing fully well how maniacal it sounds and he’s quite sure he doesn’t need any of the neighbours thinking he’s been murdered and calling the police. Part of him relishes the laugh before Kuroo manages to calm down, as strangely obnoxious as it sounds, it’s endearing. He thinks he’s too far down the rabbit hole at the very notion, but it’s something like spotting a lighthouse in the dark sea, a reminder of light. A reminder that Kuroo is here with him.

He helps Kuroo with his things while he shrugs off his trench coat, unfastening the buttons of his blazer and hanging it alongside it on a clothing rack. Tsukishima arranges the few articles in his fridge, shuffling them to make room for the pastry. He lets Kuroo run a quick bath for himself.

“I have something for you in my bag,” is all he says before he disappears behind the bathroom door. Tsukishima opens the front pocket, he fumbles around before he manages to locate what's meant for him. It's a copy of  _ Killing Commendatore  _ with paper tabs and paper tape decorating the pages. He smiles, settling into his bed and carefully opening the book and flipping through the first few pages. He doesn't get very far when the bathroom lights flicker closed and Kuroo emerges from the door. He sets the book on the bedside table, keeping his page number stored in his mind.

Tsukishima walks on his knees to reach forward and kiss Kuroo, who accepts his affection warmly. "I need to finish up some work," Kuroo says in the space between them.

The numbers on his phone read a bit over half past midnight. "It's late."

There's another kiss on his lips. "I just want to get it done so we can have the whole day for tomorrow. Or well, today, but you get the point."

Kuroo takes out his laptop and a small stack of paperwork and climbs into his side of the bed. It's not as wide, but it's enough to house them both comfortably. Tsukishima reaches past him and switches on a study lamp for him before they kiss each other goodnight and Tsukishima burrows into his covers.

He isn't sure what time it was, his consciousness returns to him sparingly enough to register the arms that wind around his waist from behind, and feel the quiet kisses peppered on the back of his neck. Kuroo nuzzles closer to him and he falls into slumber to the rise and fall of Kuroo's breathing.

* * *

Tsukishima wakes up first. He doesn't think much of it until he fumbles for his phone and checks the numbers hovering above a picture of him and Kuroo. It's quarter to eleven.

Even his shifting doesn't manage to stir Kuroo, who continues to breathe quietly, his mouth parted slightly. Kuroo's hair is it's usual mess against the pillow, Tsukishima cards his fingers through, tracing it to his cheekbone until his thumb traces the slightly blurry circles beneath his eyes. 

"Tetsuro," he says gently, brushing the strands from Kuroo's forehead. Kuroo’s features furrow as he grumbles incoherently. There’s a peek of gold from beneath his lashes.

"What time issit?" Kuroo mumbles, burrowing into the crook of his neck. 

"You stayed up, didn't you?" Kuroo glances up at him, he cups his cheek and traces the dark circle beneath his eye, "you slept in."

Kuroo reaches over for his phone, probably to confirm the time. "We should get up, come on, I'll make breakfast."

"Tetsuro."

He reaches for his hand as he sits up. Kuroo averts his eyes, his free hand fiddling with the seams of the covers.

"I was worried," Tsukishima admits, he doesn't have the luxury of layering his words, "you didn't have to make it all this way."

"I didn't want to miss our anniversary—"  _ again _ is left unsaid. But it echoes loudly in his ears. He swallows past the lump in his throat. The atmosphere feels like concrete on his shoulders. He doesn't know how long has passed, he doesn't understand why the numbers still feel so heavy.

He moves to pull Kuroo close, bringing his head to rest against his collar. Kuroo feels weightless when he sinks against him. "We can stay a bit longer."

"Kei," the words are uttered into his shoulder. "I missed you."

"I," he struggles to regain his voice. But Kuroo doesn't laugh, Kuroo doesn't tease him. He just wraps his arms around him, he just clings on for dear life. "I know."

Kuroo lets out a watery chuckle, "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. It must be work getting to me, huh?"

"You need to start practicing what you preach," he retorts, "take care of yourself."

"Sorry for making you worry."

Tsukishima sighs before planting a kiss into the mess of dark hair. "Stop overworking yourself."

"I will," he doesn't comment on how glassy Kuroo's eyes look. He reaches up to kiss Kuroo's forehead.

"Come on, I'll handle breakfast," he takes Kuroo's hand in his own as they stumble past the covers, past the hallway and into the kitchen.

"There's a new movie I keep hearing about."

"Could you pass me the salt?"

He utters a quick thanks when Kuroo hands the container to him.

"We could make it to the screening later this afternoon."

"That sounds good," Tsukishima says over the sound of chopsticks whisking eggs on the pan. "Do you want to eat out for dinner?"

"That works, I'll look up places near by and make a reservation."

He glanced over his shoulder to find Kuroo typing away at his phone, his mouth drawn in an animated line to emphasize concentration. He can't help the tug in his chest from the sight.

"How domestic," he says out loud, but he isn't sure Kuroo catches it. 

* * *

He doesn't remember much of the movie over his suppressed laughter. It doesn't really matter much and he thinks it would've been a lot better for them to curl up at home to which Kuroo's commentary is more than welcome. But it fools his brain to register it as some level of productivity and the cinema lets them press close together without anyone to notice.

The rest of the afternoon is spent over light-hearted debates and scanning through shelves of a bookstore they haven't had the chance to visit. Tsukishima finds Kuroo stuck in the Murakami section, he can't bring himself to laugh since he too ends up scanning over the titles, channeling whatever combined sixth sense they have to pick out one they'll manage to get through without complaint.

They barely notice the sky going dark before they make it to the restaurant. Time seems to pass much faster over the course of the meal, and Tsukishima can't help but glance at his phone every now and again and watch the numbers magically increase with unplaceable speed.

Time slows once they've reached the station, Kuroo shoulders his bag while they stand close to each other, their fingers barely intertwined. He has Tsukishima's scarf wrapped around his neck again, his rosy cheeks stick out against the dark purple. 

"Happy Anniversary," Tsukishima whispers when he is certain the few people congregating the platform are too out of range to hear. Kuroo brings his hand up and kisses his knuckles when he choruses it back. "I'll see you on your birthday."

"You're never one for surprises are you," Kuroo jokes. They can hear the rumbling train in the distance.

"I figured you'd like something to look forward to." Kuroo grips his hand a little tighter. Five years of routine doesn't help the feeling subside. Tsukishima tries to memorize the warmth of Kuroo's hand before the steam showers them in cold air and they have to let go. 

Kuroo waves at him even after the doors close and the train begins to draw further away. He imagines Kuroo still waving, he wonders when he decides to stop. Tsukishima let's himself laugh a little, he lingers on the platform, pulling his coat closer over the warmth of Kuroo's jumper.

The numbers stand:

_ Distance: 4,069km _

_ Days: 16 _

_ Kuroo and Tsukishima: 1 _

* * *

"No fair! You said you were going to be nice!"

"I never said anything of the sort," Tsukishima says over his glass, "besides, the math wouldn't even add up to the bill, which Kyoutani and I agreed to pitch into by the way."

"You'll be broke in the state you're in," Kyoutani chimes in, stealing Koganegawa's side dish right in his face. Tsukishima laughs at the ensuing chaos, shielding his own portion when Koganegawa fails to mimic the action.

"I don't even know why I hang out with you guys."

"We could ask you the same thing," he and Kyoutani say in unison. He spaces out of the rest of the conversation when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

It's half past eight on November seventh. There's a text that hovers just below the numbers and right above the picture of him and Kuroo standing by the view of the Tokyo Tower.

_ 10 more days :D, hope you're enjoying dinner _

_ Hope you're actually eating dinner,  _ he texts back, though he isn't really worried that Kuroo would allow himself to miss a meal. He barely catches the sound of someone calling out to him.

"Sorry, were you saying something?"

They both wear Cheshire grins. "You were smiling."

"I wasn't."

"Your cheeks are red."

"Hilarious," he says flatly.

"I bet that was Kuroo, man long distance relationships must be hard, right?" Kyoutani hushes Koganegawa who comically compresses his frame and leans closer over the round table. "It must be tough for you both."

Tsukishima lets out a small breath, he's heard this line of conversation before. But he can't bring himself to shut his teammates down. He doesn't have a chance to act on anything else before Kyoutani speaks up.

"I hope you and Kuroo get to be together soon."

Tsukishima is rendered speechless.

"You're a great teammate, Tsukishima and Kuroo is a great guy. I don't know the specifics but you've both made it work for quite some time and it's only fair for you both to finally be together physically." Koganegawa nods along the words enthusiastically.

"You're also way nicer when he's around," is Koganegawa's attempt at whispering. "And we can tell you miss him a lot."

Tsukishima tries to overlook the brightness coming from his screen and the words he makes out through his peripheral vision. It’s a few minutes past thirty when Kuroo tells him he needs to get back to work and to text him once he gets home. The words finally pull at his chest, but it’s not as suffocating. He’s probably heard all the sentiments pertaining to their relationship, but this astounds him, Koganegawa and Kyoutani mirror an expression that could only be defined as… hopeful. It dawns to him that he’s only seen this look on one other person, he’s seen it in the late morning on a harsh winter day. He’s seen it in the eternity of a second, in drowsy golden eyes and an almost uncharacteristically gentle smile. He’s felt it in the depths of his chest where the heart he believes usually falls behind everyone else’s begins to echo profoundly.

He doesn’t know what time it is. He doesn’t register the numbers. And though he’s always been good with them, he’s always preferred words better.

_ I’ll see you soon. _

They’ve weighed the odds, they’ve calculated the risk and they’ve set the table. But no matter what they do, they’re playing for a goal. To win, to love— to be together. It’s a long rally and neither of them are going to give up, he almost laughs at the irony, at how volleyball seems to carry through in a time like this. They have their small victories, they have moments where everything falls beyond their control. It isn’t as simple as it often is for most people, it isn’t as conventional. They have their own goals, their own parts to play, their own lives to live. They’re two separate entities, two stubbornly rational individuals who are far too ambitious for their own good, and oh how the numbers on the cards mock them. But it isn’t entirely about one win, in the game of stakes one plays with probability, with consistency. And maybe that’s where they are with the math.

It's a long series of games, and the end goal isn't something that neither of them deny. The goodbyes will always leave a resounding ache within them, the distance will always remain as wide. Tsukishima will always count the days, the hours, the minutes they have left. There are moments where he thinks of a future where he doesn't have to anymore. Where they can wake up together, where they can sleep in as late as they'd like, where there are no constant goodbyes.

"It seems difficult," Tsukishima speaks from the sea of his thoughts, "and we do miss each other, but that's always going to come with being in a relationship. We don't see one another often, but we understand each other. We find ways to work around it and I guess the bottom line is that we've both made it work, we're both committed to it and I don't see a reason why it should fall apart due to sentiment."

His teammates stare at him, he notices Koganegawa's mouth is slightly agape. "I never took you as the romantic type, Tsukishima." Tsukishima kicks his shin beneath the table.

"I'm not, I'm just being practical."

"I feel so old now!" Koganegawa slumps onto the table, "we're talking about all this mushy stuff I've just realized how old we've gotten."

"You're giving yourself too much credit," he ducks away from the table napkin thrown at him.

"He's right you know, you've mentally recessed a few years big guy." Kyoutani offers a sympathetic pat on Koganegawa's shoulder, "hang in there."

The light-heartedness returns from the chasm they descended to. Tsukishima finds himself laughing, he finds his chest light and the evening full. He reaches for his phone, bypassing the numbers and lingering on Kuroo's face on his screen. They'll call one another once Tsukishima gets back to the dorm, they'll wish each other goodnight and count down the days until the seventeenth, and for once, the numbers aren't as condemning as they usually are.


End file.
